


Names

by Otterly



Category: Pack Street - Fandom, Toybox Pals, Zootopia (2016)
Genre: crossover?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-19
Updated: 2018-01-19
Packaged: 2019-03-06 10:51:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13409697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Otterly/pseuds/Otterly
Summary: This is really really weird.I’m aware.This story is based off ofa) The movie Your Name, which is fantastic, and alsob) A conversation I witnessed between BoneyM and Weaver once on discord that I did not contribute to, but simply watched and noted down because I’m a fucking creep





	Names

Remmy once wondered to himself if he was the first one to ever integrate himself into a predator neighbourhood. Probably not, he thought to himself. Probably not.

There was, however, a good chance that he could be the first sheep his age to be such good friends with a tiger, of all things. He read once that from a population of sheep aged ten to thirty, twenty percent had never met a tiger in their entire lives. A fifth of every sheep his age didn’t sound like too much, but there were a fuck-ton of sheep in Zootopia.

Remmy, looking at the facts, decided that his friendship with Dora was special. But the facts weren’t everything.

There was simply something about Dora that made her familiar to him. Which was biologically ridiculous, _but still._  An aura around her, perhaps? A charisma built up from whatever life she had lived up until they met? That was…

Well, it was wrong, somehow. But the problem didn’t tire Remmy in the way that talking to Avo for more than twenty minutes did (when she was in a bad mood, at least). It was the kind of thing that brought him back to school. Made him feel challenged intellectually.

Of course, a bad side effect of trying to figure someone out was that one might stare at the aforementioned someone for way too long during one of their now weekly lunch dates.

This particular one was at a nice hyena run restaurant just by the Square, and Remmy and Dora happened to be the only sheep and tiger seated there.

“You okay, Mr. Marshmallow?” Dora had asked. A minute ago.

“Yeah, no problem!” he replied, taking a long gulp of water to replace the explanation that should have followed.

The tiger took it in stride, giggling before going back to her menu. “Well, I have one, if you care to help: I have no idea what to get.”

“The kebab is always nice. Quality roach meat, nice and tender. Can I—can I ask you something?”

“Kebab, huh? Maybe…and of course you can, Remmy.”

“I…” he trailed off, losing his courage. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

Dora scoffed amusedly. “Come on now, it’s been months since I’ve been back. I think you’d know if I wasn’t doing alright for myself.”

“Yeah but—you’re right. Sorry. Know what to order yet?”

“After another minute or two I will.”

Silence crept up in the wake of the exchange as Remmy pretended to read. Why was he so nervous?

There came several perfect moments to say something that he did not take. A question came to him soon after that.

With perked ears and an uneasy stare, he spoke. “You ever get my voicemail, all those months back?”

“Excuse me?” she asked. “Sorry, I was spacing out.”

“No, never mind. Wasn’t that important,” he said quickly, almost falling back into the silence afterward. “I think I woke up on the weird side of the bed this morning.”

“Me too,” she agreed empathetically. “Lucid dream kind of feeling? Not quite wading in jello but like there’s some sort of filter on your senses?”

“Yeah. Like there’s something that’s missing.”

“Well, I couldn’t have said it better myself, Marshmallow. Stress?”

“I don’t think so,” he said. “Everything’s been pretty stable recently. What about you?”

“Couldn’t be. Maybe it’s something we ate?”

“I didn’t have breakfast.”

“And I had four fish tacos. Cliff owed me a favor, before you ask.”

“Chem trails, then?”

“Gotta be,” Dora said with a smile. “That or it’s coincidence we’re feeling the same way. But that would be ridiculous, wouldn’t it?”

The waitress (a peppy little minx) came and took their orders, and left just as fast.

“I think we’ve always been kindred spirits. Or at least you’ve never made me feel like a stranger,” the tiger said quietly, when they were both sure that the waitress wasn’t going to be back any time soon. “Thanks for that, Marshmallow. I’m glad for it.”

“Same,” crackled Remmy. “What did you order?”

“I’ll let you find that out when it comes, I think. It’ll be a surprise,” she said, sticking her tongue out. “You like those, don’t you?”

“I don’t know,” replied Remmy. “But maybe you could help me find out, Ms. Tiger.”

“Ms. Tiger.”

“Everyone on Pack Street has like, a hundred nicknames for me. I thought that I’d start firing back. It’s not, like, offensive or anything, is it?”

“No, no! It’s fine,” Dora said. “There’s actually—”

A family was seated beside them. Neither noticed until now, when two of the younger cubs sicced themselves quite literally at each others throats, growling and spitting and roaring with primal fury.

“Yikes,” Remmy remarked, visibly cringing.

“Aww, would you look at that, the power struggles of youth! If I could be a cub again for just one minute…”

“A tiny Dora running around had to have been adorable.”

“She was! Full of energy and sass,” the feline chuffed. “But mostly she was a good kid. Probably because as soon as 8pm hit, she’d get all zonked out on her sleeping medication.”

“Oh, geez. Nightmares?”

“No, just—strange dreams,” she explained, noticing that her friend’s eyes had a surprised glaze over them. “What’s wrong?”

Remmy laughed. “It’s just weird. I had the same problem when I was a kid.”

“Really now? And what were your dreams about? Predators?”

“Nope! Nothing like that,” Remmy took a moment to think. “They weren’t really dreams. No flying in my sleep or running around Candyland. Have you ever have dreams that feel like you’re just reliving a memory? Like maybe you just get up for work, go to work, come home and sleep and nothing dreamlike happens, and then you wake up?”

Dora nodded.

“Well,” he continued. “They were all like that. Except I never lived any of mine. Which sounds like it’d be good in theory but I just kept waking up exhausted. Like I was out all night. My parents actually thought that I _was_  sneaking out until we got a camera to record me.”

“That _is_  strange.”

“Yeah—“

“Because you just described _my_  experience with dreams to a tee.”

Both of them blinked, feeling something like butterflies flutter round their chests.

“Kindred spirits,” Remmy said, tasting the words. “You’re as right as ever.”

“I’ll drink a glass of free water to that,” she said, a cheeky grin on her face.

“Let’s.”

 

* * *

 

The dream felt like an old friend. It has little quirks and habits that made it seem organic. Alive.

Remmy Cormo was glad that he was back in its arms. He touched the cup of tea in front of him. Still hot. Freshly brewed, too. The bunny must have been here not too long ago. How long had it been? Remmy was embarrassed to admit (even if it was just to himself) that he forgot the poor guy’s name. He knew it was something simple.

Remmy stopped. What was he doing here?

“There you are!” a charming voice called, distinctly dignified and male.

He turned to see the bunny. Quite cute. Rough and tumble fabric sewn into an elegant, timeless form.

“We’ve been looking everywhere for you,” the bunny said. “Come now, it’s time for a song and we need our best singer.”

“S—sorry, Bun-Bun,” Remmy replied.

“It’s no trouble, silly sheep. Just finish your tea and we’ll be off.”

“I can finish it later.”

“Perfect! Let’s go, then.”

The bunny’s soft arm wrapped around the walking cotton-ball’s shoulders, shepherding the ungulate through the room. They rounded corners of plastic walls decorated with strange designs, eventually coming to a little ballroom of sorts. It wasn’t as grand as a common sentient being would think a ballroom would be, but Bunbun had explained to him before that this was the best they were going to get.

Not that the Sheep cared too much. It was a kind of stage, after all. He loved those.

He and Bun-bun made their way to the middle of the floor.

“Where is she…” Bun-bun muttered, fix his adorable little bowtie.

“Right here,” a smokey alto sang from behind.

Sheep—that’s what he was but it was also his name—turned and saw her approach.

A Tiger in the ballroom, strutting up to the two of them with enough confidence and coolness to make their legs turn to jelly.

“Hi, boys,” she said.

“Ms. Tiger!” Bun-bun chirped happily.

But the tiger wasn’t just looking at him. She was looking at Sheep. Her eyes were trusting and discrete and… _so beautiful._ He had more than a crush on her. Sheep could only hope that she thought of him even as just a friend.

“Hi,” Mr. Sheep (because he was a boy and couldn’t be a Ms.) said.

“Hello,” she said back.

* * *

 

Remmy didn’t wake until much later, but he remembered the dream.

He checked the time. 4:30.

Would she be awake?

He stared at his phone.

And then it rang.

Two-point-five seconds of Freebird before swiping later, Dora’s voice mewed sleepily into his ears.

“Are you awake?” she asked, a twinge of humor arising out of her exhaustion.

“No,” he replied, mirroring her cheekiness.

“Good, because I was wondering if you would like to go out again.”

“When?”

“Sooner rather than later.”

“Is there anything sooner than sooner?”

“Right now.”

“Then I think I’d rather talk to you right now.”

Silence came out of Dora’s end. So much so that Remmy almost asked if she was still there before she interrupted.

“Can’t. Sorry, little lamb. Tomorrow. Lunch. Let’s go for…1 o’ clock. I’ll text you my address.”

Remmy’s reply was dead before he exhaled the second after she hung up.

He stared at his lock screen a while. Before long, it shut off, and he went back to sleep.

 

* * *

 

Pandora’s room was perfect, according to Remmy’s vision of it. Not that he ever thought about what her bedroom might look like.

Her mattress was a king. Not too old, either. From the looks of it and its sheets, the bed and it’s frame had to have been bought in the past 5 years. Way more luxurious than what an average Pack Street resident would have. That was forgetting about the polished furniture and the rack of jewelry that was at least half real. Dora explained it all away as gifts from clients and partners, but Remmy wasn’t convinced.

Unfortunately, she closed the door to her room before he could get an in-depth view. He nearly joked that if she killed people for money, she could just tell him, but for once he was quick to notice his foot heading for his mouth.

So Remmy sat in a bean bag chair across from the fancy love seat where Dora was sitting, and he watched her think.

“What are you to me?” she wondered aloud, before the silence became awkward. “And vice-versa.”

Remmy blinked. “Did you know that twenty percent of sheep my age haven’t met a tiger in their lives?”

“I did. Ten percent of bunnies haven’t met tigers, thirty percent of horses haven’t either…even amongst predators we’re relatively unique. Personally, it’s always been a little miracle to me that we’ve become as close as we have.”

“I feel the same exact same way,” Remmy replied, chuckling as he tried to scratch the back of his head with his hooves. He couldn’t quite ease the itch.

Dora folded her hands together, staring ahead. “Last night my dream came back. Did yours? Don’t answer that, because I know it did. I can see it on your face. I thought it might have,” she talked in a hurry before calming down. “To be honest, I’m not completely sure why I needed you here.”

“Ouch,” gasped the sheep.

“No! Sorry. Geez,” she laughed. “Sorry. I didn’t mean it like that, Remmy. Promise.”

He raised an eyebrow. “I believe you.”

“Good, because I didn’t,” Dora breathed. “Okay…can you entertain me for a moment?”

“Sure thing,” he said. “You don’t happen to have a guitar lying around, do you? I think I’ve been around Ozzy long enough that I can improvise a little something.”

That got a sweet-natured giggle out of her, which in turned eased the strange tension that plagued the last few moments.

“While that’d be something I’d _love_  to see, I had something specific in mind,” she explained, standing up and walking past Remmy, brushing her paw on his shoulder. “Come to bed, little lamb.”

Remmy was up faster than he could think. His heart raced almost as fast as his mind. He followed her into her bedroom, which smelled as amazing as he expected and felt so much more expensive up close, and he watched as she removed her shirt.

“Uh—mmm,” he stuttered. “Dora?”

“Oh, sorry,” the feline said, looking back at him over her shoulder. “Get in and make yourself comfortable!”

“What are we doing?” he asked, opting to remove his shirt but not his sweatpants. He hopped into Dora’s bed and was immediately bombarded by her scent. Jasmine and something he couldn’t quite place. He did as he was told, snuggling into her thick blankets, getting as relaxed as possible and ignoring his giant boner. “We’re not gonna…”

“You’re adorable, Mr. Sheep.”

Remmy felt himself tense back up as he watched Dora do the same.

“A-Anyway,” she said, quickly picking herself back up. “No. We’re gonna nap.”

“What?”

“You heard me, Marshmallow,” she chuffed as she climbed into bed, wrapping her arms around Remmy and pulling him close to her. “I have a theory and I need you to do this for me. Can you?”

Remmy blushed fiercely, sorting through several responses in his mind before settling on the only one that felt right. “Of course I can.”

* * *

 

Sleep arrived. So did the dream.

Though Mr. Sheep was starting to feel like it wasn’t just a dream. An opportunity to just hang out with Ms. Tiger all day? This was the kind of stuff that could only happen in real life because it was _that_  amazing. He giggled to himself as the music played, drifting out to them from the background. Today was shaping up to be a good day.

“Are you going to sing, dear? Or have you had another case of stage fright?” Ms. Tiger asked with a smile.

The song had already begun!

“Oh, no—don’t worry!” came Mr. Sheep’s panicked reply. “I’ll just hop on during the chorus. You sure you don’t want to join me?”

“I’d love to, but I think right now I just want to relax and listen to your _wonderful_  voice, Sheepy.”

“Okay! Here we go. _Blue canary in the outlet by the light switch, who watches over you…_ ”

 

Applause met him at the end of the song, as it tended to.

“Really, _really_  good!” Ms. Tiger gushed. “I could listen to you _all_  day.”

Mr. Sheep’s insides fluttered with butterflies and the like. He gave the tiger a smile as he sat down beside her. “You’re serious?”

“Of course, sweetheart.”

“Yay!” he chirped happily. “Hey, Tiger, can I ask you a question?”

“Mhm?”

“Are we…” he wandered a bit but came back. “Are we friends?”

“What? Yes! Of course we are. Why would you ask that?”

“Just curious,” Sheep replied, pursing his lips together and avoiding her gaze.

“Sheep…”

“I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

“Sheep.”

“I didn’t mean—“

“Sheep! Listen,” she said. She cupped the side of his face, bringing his eyes back to hers. “What is this about?”

“I don’t know. I—uh, do you just, I don’t know. Do you think there’s a reason why we’re not as…” he twirled his hooves.

“Close?” Ms. Tiger guessed. He nodded, and her puzzled frown flipped into a smile. “Oh, Mr. Sheep. You’re so cute sometimes. I’ll tell you what,” she said as she grabbed her fellow toy’s hooves. “I think that we’re pretty good friend already, but if you’re really that stressed about this we can start hanging out more. Would that sound okay?”

Mr. Sheep laughed, purely out of relief. “Yeah. That sounds good to me.”

“Good. Now—“

 

* * *

 

Remmy didn’t realize his eyes were open, but they were. He was staring at Dora.

She was awake, too. From the expression on her face, Remmy deduced that she was in a similar state of mind.

“When I was a little cub, I’d have dreams,” she said. The words seemed to be spilling out of her. “And I’d be this cute little toy, puppet, doll kind of thing. And…and I had all of these friends spanning a whole number of different species. It was amazing! Nearly every day was an adventure! It was so much fun.”

“You’re her,” he said. “You’re her, aren’t you?”

“You’re him,” she countered.

The back of the sheep’s mind noticed that she was still holding him.

He reached up and tentatively touched her cheek. “Are you real? Am I?”

“Of course we are. The question is, are they?”

“I have zero doubt.”

“Me neither. That was a courtesy question.”

“Are we dreaming of memories?” he asked.

Dora shrugged. “Maybe. Or—yeah, I don’t know.”

Their heartbeats were loud. Remmy could just barely hear the pulsing rhythms, and that meant, to Dora, they were like an mp3 player at medium volume.

She gently grasped the hooves on her cheek, bringing them to rest on her chest.

Moments passed. The words found her. “I’m glad I found you.”

Remmy swallowed the lump in his throat. “Likewise.”

“What do you say we reintroduce ourselves?” she asked.

“How do you mean?”

“Well,” she began. “Well, I’m Ms. Tiger. Or Pandora. Who are you?”

“Remmy Cormo, miss. But, if you want, you can call me Mr. Sheep.”

Each took a moment to take things in. 

 

"What now?" asked the woolier of the two.

"Don't know."

"Sleep?"

"Sounds good to me. Lunch after?"

"It'd be dinner, but yes."

Remmy closed his eyes, feeling Dora pull him tight against her. He had always wondered about what made her familiar to him, and now he knew. She was his friend; a fact established long since before they met. She'd find him no matter where they were, whether either of them knew it or not, and she'd have his back.

The warmth from her fur pulled him into slumber, and from the slumber came a dream.

 

 

 

[didn't see you for a while](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eSXtgqdmXMw)

**Author's Note:**

> For TT: Anime
> 
> Both Pack Street and Toybox Pals do not belong to me, obviously


End file.
